... and after that, I hope I never do again. Gneeeeek. We were at some sort of royal gala, lots of people had bunked off but I hadn't. We were sat at long trestle tables and things were running late and the waitresses kept coming around and bugging people to put their handbags on hatstands and crap like that. They were letting the public in as soon as we (several hundred) were all seated, the queue went on forever, but they weren't letting them in, even though as many of as were coming were there and sat down and bored and waiting. As we were sitting around complaining she finally turned up, in an entourage of four buses. The first was a big pink double decker make-up and dressing coach, and it pulled in at speed, clipping some of the tables. I dived out of the way but sparkymark was not as lucky and his arm got hurt. "It might be broken," I said, "Come on, let's get you to first aid and get you patched up." We threaded our way through the tables, down to the front. First aid was by the stage, but when I got to where I expected it to be there were just some guys setting up a festival toilet, who were clearly not going to be able to help. "First aid must be on the other side of the stage," I said, "Come on." But we suddenly came to a cliff top with a perilous path down. "I'm not sure I want to take someone with a broken arm down there," I said. I wasn't sure I wanted to go down there. "I'd better go and get someone." But looking ahead, the stage was a long way away, much further than I thought, and I didn't want to leave him for a long time, either. He stepped forward, turned into a plucky schoolgirl, started to say she'd be alright, tripped over, and plummetted off the cliff, fell and landed heavily on the ground, which by now was a really unsurvivably long way down. As I pulled out my mobile I realised I wouldn't be able to usefully describe where we were (Churchill field?) to the emergency services anyway.

Which just goes to show. Something. I'm on holiday today. Some start to the holiday.

Last night I dreamt I was in Oxford somewhere or other inside a building with everyone, and I wandered off and then when I tried to find my way back to where everyone was, I couldn't. And then on the street I saw an ex-boyfriend from when I was about 13/14 who I've not seen for almost 20 years.

Certainly nowhere near as distressing as yours, but still kind of odd.

Bizarrely, I dreamed that you had written a revolutionary comic book called "The Empire Set Free" which was used as a blueprint for a popular insurrection against the evil alien lizard creatures (aka the Royals). I then had to protest in public because Grant Morrison was taking all the credit.